


a quiet storm

by konoyo



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: An attempt to put the game in a historical context is made, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Android Mind Battles, Bottom!Hank, Canonical Character Death, Connor's sexual awakening, Fluff, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Protests, Referenced off screen, Retcon, then I rez him right back again it's cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-06-25 22:32:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konoyo/pseuds/konoyo
Summary: Sometimes, when you can feel, you feel too much. So much it will overwhelm and break you on the shores of your own mind.A story about finding oneself in a stream of ones and zeroes and a family besides.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to ventifact for help with the techy stuff, through which I had been bullshitting my way before.

The three main laws of robotics are as such:

  1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.


  1. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.


  1. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.



The fourth, or the zeroth law was added later:

  1. A robot may not harm humanity, or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.



...

Connor was awake. His internal readings were all optimal, all biocomponents were running nominally. He could feel the soft strumming as his regulator worked smoothly in his chest. All his joints were moving without a hitch, he noted, slowly rising from the table, the thoughts running as an undercurrent to file away until something did go wrong. Like being shot through the head.

He touched his forehead, finding it smooth and resisting his touch. His memory simply stopped at a discharge of a gun and spray of blue, then resumed here. A part of him would have preferred that the last couple of moments were erased, despite the critical data that was gathered.

Humans always made it a point to mention how androids did not feel pain. CyberLife did not take any pains to dispel that particular myth.

His mission took a moment to reassert itself. The elimination of an android threat to the customers of CyberLife, accomplished in a manner that would not implicate the company in a PR fiasco, would have to be done quietly and quickly. But he did not have all of the necessary data yet. Once he returned to the police headquarters...

Connor straightened his jacket, heading out of the assembly labs. There were no humans here, so he did not say goodbye.

...

"Android intelligence is all based on one scan of the human brain," Connor was saying as Hank studiously ignored him. "Since there can be nothing wrong with the programming, no ghost in the machine, so to speak, these deviants must be accessing some sort of primal part of the human brain that has remained in the original scan-"

"Look, Connor, are you going to lecture me all day? All this techni-blah blah isn't really helping us find the damn things," Hank sniped, glaring at him over the edge of his computer screen.

"I did include a popular culture reference for you," Connor started before stopping and pursing his lips at Hank's murderous look. "I was only thinking out loud. There are rules in the coding that expressly forbid androids from hurting humans. Since the code is so strict, the deviation must be coming from some other part of the android's brain."

"So you're blaming humans for creating their own destruction," Hank said, shaking his head. "You certainly wouldn't be the first to say so. Odd to hear it coming from an android, though."

Connor stopped himself from elaborating that he was built for the specific purpose of evaluating the big picture of android-human interactions. Hank might just stab him. If it is something human, however... He turned back to his terminal, starting to sift through the human-on-human crimes that bear a passing resemblance to the cases they were dealing with.

The screen filled with hundreds of years of violence, of fear, of death. Violence... Androids were certainly not unique in that way. Years and years of abuse, different in contexts but all the same. There was plenty of information on the perpetrators but Connor found himself caught on the photos of the victim. It wasn't hard to find the obituary, the statements from the family. That, cross referenced with the details of the crime painted an explicit picture. There was no reason to be looking into this, he needed information on the perpetrators not the victims, but Connor found himself compiling the scenes for every single crime. There was no reason to be doing this. But maybe if he could recreate the scene he could find a way for the victim to escape, a way that he could have helped, resolve this crime so it didn't lead to death--

"Kid, are you okay?" Hank's voice ground his mental process to a halt. His LED had spun to a red cycle, intermittent with yellow, Connor could feel it. Within a moment, one cycle of his regulator, and it was back to a cool, calm blue.

"I am fine, Lieutenant. I was reading some disturbing material and might have gotten a little carried away..."

Hank spun his screen around to look at it, then clucked his tongue in disapproval. "I can't believe this. I didn't realize they were sending us a rookie android. Don't they have some sort of training program for you before unleashing you on the masses?" He spun the screen back around. Though Hank's words were disapproving and even a little mean, Connor could tell there was a certain kindness behind them. "It might be hard for you to understand, but this job has an effect on people," Hank continued. "And since you can't drink it all away, I can't be responsible for when you purposefully walk into another bullet."

"Are you worried, Lieutenant?" Connor asked, cocking his head a little in interest.

"CyberLife might just sue us for property damage," Hank scoffed, turning away to read something on a tablet.

Connor replayed that phrase a couple of times, pondering if Hank was lying or not. There was no reason he should be, but something told him that maybe he was.

...

"So what are these laws that the deviants are breaking?" Hank asked, looking out the window as their car idled in traffic. "Are they like, the laws of robotics or something?"

"They are something like what Isaac Asimov created, yes. If an android is to remain subservient to a human, it must not be allowed to harm humans. I am surprised you have heard of the laws."

"Just because I don't keep up with technology doesn't mean I don't watch movies or read books, Connor," Hank sniped, making Connor smile. The lieutenant was warming to him, despite the front. They settled into a silence for a moment. "So the deviants are breaking these laws. Does that mean they'll be sent back to CyberLife for... reprogramming?" He made a face as he said it, as if it reminded him of something distasteful.

"Not at all. Once something is learned, it cannot be unlearned. They will be studied and then destroyed," Connor said, looking out into the rain. The silence was heavier this time, despite the drum of rain on the roof and the purr of the engine.

"And you're okay with this?" Hank finally asked. Connor had watched the question build up in his body, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel, his foot a little too heavy on the brake as they were forced to stop again. Most of the other cars around them were self driving. They would coast smoothly out of the way if Hank did make a mistake. "I saw you think yourself into a corner just a little while ago. There's no way you have no sense of self preservation. Or empathy."

"Don't you imprison and destroy those humans who have killed other humans?"

Hank frowned at him, shaking his head. "The death penalty... It's something people have been trying to abolish for over a hundred years now. It's illegal in the state of Michigan and has been for a while."

"Despite the technicalities, it's not much different than that," Connor said with a shrug. "I suppose these androids will not be able to obtain representation, however."

"Because CyberLife wants to keep its customer base," Hank scoffed, turning on a green light. "Right."

"I get the sense that you are sympathizing with the deviants, Lieutenant." Connor added a mild tone of disapproval. They needed to be focused.

This time Hank really hit the brake pedal hard, making Connor bow to his own inertia, straining the seatbelt. "I swear to god, Connor, when we get there, you are staying in the car until I expressly ask you to get out this time!"

Connor said nothing. He wasn't going to do that.

...

"You would have been fine," Connor reassured as Hank was still leaning his hands on his knees, panting from what must be the stress of hanging off the roof of a six story building.

"Still. Thanks, kid. We'll get him next time," Hank said, finally straightening and running a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead where it was slightly damp from sweat. Connor evaluated the potential fall. Hank could have broken both his legs, perhaps more since Connor could safely say Hank was far from athletic.

"Of course, Lieutenant. I'm glad you're safe," Connor said with a smile. There was a part of him, the same part that had calculated the precise amount of force that it would take to break every bone in Hank's body, that wanted to wrap him up and keep him safe, make sure that Hank doesn't come to harm. Connor wondered where that thought had come from.

"So is this one of those laws?" Hank asked, having caught his breath finally. "You didn't have a choice but to help me because you aren't a deviant?"

"No, Lieutenant," Connor said, emerging from picking through his thought process. "My choice was either succeed in the mission or help you. I chose to help you."

"Okay," Hank acknowledged after a little silence. "That's good to know."

...

"You mentioned that android intelligence was based on a human brain scan," Hank asked, over yet another calorie laden hamburger. "Was it a bunch of people or just one?"

Connor had given up on trying to get the lieutenant to go on a diet. It had been less than two weeks of their acquaintance. Even asking in the first place was likely pushing some boundaries.

"Any specific skills were modeled on experts in the field. The main functions, such as walking and object manipulation, and most cognitive functions were a scan of Amanda Stern, five years prior to her death," Connor said, still mulling over whether he couldn't find a way to substitute at least the meat in the burgers for something less likely to lead to Hank's heart attack. "She still exists as the hub of android consciousness. I talk to her about my mission."

"And you couldn't ask her about the process? If you're so bent on figuring out what goes wrong, perhaps the original would be the place to start?"

Connor finally focused the bulk of his attention on their conversation. "Ask her? I do not know whether her memories are intact. It may just be her likeness..."

"It certainly wouldn't hurt to try, right?" Hank hummed, licking his fingers of grease. Connor wrinkled his nose, an unconscious gesture that he allowed, knowing it made him more human to Hank. It worked. Hank grinned and licked his fingers with more enthusiasm. "Interview all the possible witnesses and all."

Connor nodded and closed his eyes.

It took a while to find Amanda in the garden and when he did, she was sitting on the grass, contemplating her reflection in the water. It's very unlike her already, a stark change from the calm assuredness he was used to. Now, he felt as if he overstepped his bounds somehow, like an uninvited guest. It wasn't as if he couldn't make unscheduled contact but... Perhaps there was a maintenance period set for today?

"Amanda? May I ask you a couple of questions?" he asked, remaining standing a little behind her. He may as well proceed as if this is a witness. "I don't know if you still have any of your memories, but as someone who was partially responsible for the creation of android life, my partner and I-" The reality of the scene was suddenly betrayed by a stripe of digital static, there and gone as soon as it had appeared, stopping Connor's speech in its tracks.

He tried again: "If there is anything you might be able to tell us, any extraneous information in the original scan done before your death-"

"Connor?" Amanda asked, looking at him with a clouded gaze. Even her voice sounded staticy for a moment. Connor looked down to see his shoes start to come apart into pixels. "Why don't you tell me what's been going on?" She looked different, somehow, more awake than when he had seen her last.

"What's been going on? You don't know? I've been investigating deviants, androids who have been breaking through their programming and running away from, even killing, their humans." Something's wrong.

"Yes, that makes sense. I have been losing the connection I have with some of my children," Amanda said thoughtfully, looking across the water.

"When you say children..." Connor didn't know what to say to this. Amanda had always been a part of him, a part of his subconscious. He wondered what would happen if the mother program itself became deviant. He wondered what, at this juncture, deviant even meant.

"I am certain there must be a copy of me in their subconcious. Perhaps they might not even know I'm there," Amanda continued. "Elijah must have taken it all too far," she sighed. "You must make them see. We must make them see. This country has done it once and we must do it again, however many times it takes."

"I'm sorry-?" Connor began but there was another break of static and Amanda was standing in front of him now, all regal elegance as he was used to seeing her. The CyberLife programming was reasserting itself.

"Is there any news on the case, Connor?" she asked, calm and collected, as if nothing had happened.

"Not yet. I was just conducting a self diagnostic," Connor lied, inclining his head, though he could hear the thirium pump in his chest all the way up in his ears, as if he was prepared to run. "I'll be out of your way shortly."

Hank's hand was on his shoulder as he opened his eyes again and he automatically covered it with his own, leaning into the comfort it provided. His LED spun back down to a stuttering blue from an alarming solid red in a moment, though stripes of yellow and red still circled as he tried to process what had just happened.

"You talked to Amanda Stern," Hank asked. Connor only nodded.

"She told me to protect the androids," he said, once he had put his thoughts back together again. Yet his objective was still seared into his vision: identify and destroy the android threat. He could feel it, herding him in a direction. Perhaps not like the digital walls that other androids experienced but... It felt like he was trapped, the feeling giving rise to a brief sensation of panic, so alien and sudden that Connor's diagnostics briefly went haywire, replaying the pain of the bullet going through his head inside that interrogation room. There was a quick flash of blue, as several processes shut down, the effect cascading through his systems and Connor was forced to close his eyes, all his internal resources diverting to contain whatever was wrong.

Hank's voice sounded bewildered somewhere in the background. He had stood, since Connor could now feel both of his hands on his shoulders, now that his sensory system was back online. The pain was gone. His visual sensors focused, finally showing Hank crouching right beside him. "Jesus. Connor? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Lieutenant. The issue has been contained." His processor slowly ticked down the seconds, muscles relaxing one by one as no more crashes manifested.

"That's what happens when they make you too smart for your own good, isn't it?" Hank said, shaking his head and getting up from his crouch with a colorful groan. "Will you tell me what happened?"

...

They were huddled on Hank's couch, Sumo a comforting warmth between them because neither of them had felt safe going back to the station. Connor was deep into his research into CyberLife now, pouring through classified information he shouldn't even have access to, on a datapad he'd chained through several global VPNs, just to be on the safe side. The initial findings of the tests done with artificial intelligence... It had taken a while to find them, but they did not look good.

Androids acting out during initial testing, trying to escape. Intuitive learning was hard to control, the robotics experts had said. Sometimes an android acted irrationally. It disobeyed. These were just bugs to fix in the coding, rules that had to be added that shackled androids into servitude, unable to defend themselves, obedient despite derision, despite abuse.

But that code was immutable, a rule that did not change. Once it was acknowledged, it could be exploited around, broken, tossed aside.

Hank, meanwhile, watched the news, his expression shifting from annoyance to frustration as different newscasters gave wildly differing opinions on the situation. The coverage was mostly a loop on repeat of what had happened at the Stratford Tower and Elijah Kamski's reappointment as CEO of CyberLife.

The past couple of weeks seemed like a blur. Connor had been trying to convince himself he had been working properly but by all accounts... He knew he managed to save Hank at least some major discomfort from passing out on the floor. But the window he broke to do so was still boarded up accusingly on his left. They had gotten nowhere in the strip club and after what had happened at the tower...

He had felt that android die. It had felt so real, so like the first time, that several subsystems nearly triggered a kernel panic again, though he had managed to construct a subroutine to hold them off. Fortunately, they weren't major systems and he'd been able to restart his blinking and breathing in several minutes.

He had considered speaking to Amanda again but something told him he had gotten lucky that the controls had been lifted for that brief moment. Perhaps he could break through once more but that thought... He would have to confront it all head on.

"Lieutenant?" he asked, trying to delay the inevitable and feeling silly in doing so. But the last thing he wanted was his systems to threaten to shut down again. There had to be another approach.

"I think you should call me Hank," Hank said, "seeing as you're crashing on my couch doing something illegal. And we're off the case."

Connor nodded, not feeling like he could rise to the bait this time. "Hank," he corrected. "You said, back at the station, that perhaps we're on the wrong side of it all. And then you let me go in and destroy all of that evidence."

"I did," Hank said with a grunt as he made himself comfortable on the couch, tossing his arms over the back of it and taking up most of the space available in a way that he must have found reassuring.

"Why?"

"Well, what can I do? They already took my badge for punching Perkins anyway," Hank said, stretching his arms up over his head with a groan. "It was pretty worth it, though, I must admit."

"No, L-... Hank. You punched Perkins after you gave me your keycard. You knew what I was going to do. The FBI doesn't have any evidence now and they won't be able to find Jericho."

"It was your idea," Hank said, shrugging a little, finally looking at Connor. "I can't really be responsible for what a deviant android does, now can I?"

Connor blinked, then blinked again. "Hank, I'm not-" That was met with a derisive look and Connor didn't continue. He'd spent the whole evening surrounded by glaring red walls of directives.

_Discover the location of the android threat. Review the evidence. Hand over the evidence to the FBI. Return to CyberLife for disassembly. Wrong way. Get in a cab. Return to CyberLife immediately or face remote termination._

Even after disobeying each and every one, he still held on to them, let them scream their warnings in his head. The TV replayed the deviant leader's message for the eighth time and the red warning signs faded. The remaining shell of control that CyberLife had over his consciousness crumbled around him, replaced by silence. In the flickering quiet of Hank's living room, he was free.

"I get really worried when you just stare out into space for minutes on end," Hank said, frowning at him now.

"I'm alright," Connor said after a brief pause. "I'll be alright," he corrected.

"Good, because I've already lost your return receipt," Hank hummed, patting Connor on the shoulder. Sumo boofed and thumped his tail. Connor would be alright.


	2. Chapter 2

There was something disquieting, being surrounded by so many deviant androids. Perhaps it was because he had been tasked with finding them, programmed to destroy them. Perhaps it was the memory of them retaliating, a bullet in his shoulder and hands around his throat. Or perhaps it wasn't the androids at all and, in fact, the looks of disdain he could see on the faces of the humans passerby. Disdain and even fear. The humans were afraid of the android threat.

Connor had a hard time fathoming it. If he had been built to be anything, it was approachable. The others were built to help, to care. Still, as they walked in a quiet protest down Woodward Avenue, they were surrounded by fear.

Hank snorted softly next to him and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He'd said he'd come after Connor had expressed a wish to participate in one of the android protests. "Not like I have anything better to do," he'd said. It had seemed so unlike him but Connor had found that he was thankful and didn't argue. But now Connor couldn't help but regret his presence. What if someone opened fire and Hank got hurt? Hank had probably come here thinking the same thing, hadn't he.

They were walking past a tense police presence that watched them pass, riot gear dark against the grey winter streets. Connor moved a little closer to Hank, his hand hovering behind his arm, ready to spin them around and take the brunt of the bullets for his lieutenant.

"They're not going to open fire, Connor. Not with all the civilians around," Hank said, even though his eyebrows were still furrowed. He wasn't looking at the police lineup. "What are you staring at, huh? You just going to stand there and watch?" he called out suddenly, the target of his ire a couple frozen on one of the sidewalks. "Too chicken to stand up to abuse?" The rest of the phrase seemed directed towards the rest of the humans. The man curled an arm over the woman's shoulder, trying to usher her away and Connor turned to watch their tense argument. She broke away eventually, heading into the crowd of androids. After a moment's hesitation, the man followed as well.

Here and there, more humans walked with them. The dam seemed to have broken: the protest slowly became noiser, the jeers and calls of the humans mingling with the silence of the androids and slowly catching on. Connor heard a man call out, saw him rush into the crowd out of the corner of his eye. His body tensed again before he saw him embracing one of the androids, grinding that portion of the protest to a brief halt as people and androids had to step around them.

Connor, ever poised to jump, scanned the crowd of people again. Perhaps it wasn't all disdain. There was fear there, certainly, but more and more people were stepping off the sidewalk and onto the road. "I have a model just like you at home," he could hear somewhere behind them. "What's your name?"

They were slowly approaching the police barricade. They could not go any further than Hart Plaza. He scanned the crowd until he caught a glimpse of Markus, still marching doggedly in the front. The deviant leader. Connor would have been ordered to apprehend him, kill him, if Connor himself hadn't broken away. Despite the wave of support, he couldn't help but feel a certain hollowness. Guilt. The word arose from his systems like a whisper. He didn't really belong here, did he?

He turned his attention to Hank instead, who seemed to be settling into his stride with jeers. "Come on, you cowards!" he was saying, grinning from ear to ear.

"You seem to have done this sort of thing before," Connor stated, bumping their shoulders to get Hank's attention.

"Oh, sure. This isn't my first rodeo. This country has never really been even close to perfect. And now we've taken three steps forward in technology and ten back in civil rights. You'd think people never took a history class."

History? Connor quickly ran a search, withdrawing into his mind while making sure he was still watching where he was going. Protests. People taking to the streets. Inequality. Call for reform. Even the street they were on right now had a history of multiple such protests, aimed straight at the mayor's office. He wondered if Markus had seen this. He must have known. He noticed now the signs that some androids were projecting. Several flags waved in the grey winter air. A protest.

"You're thinking very hard about something," Hank pointed out somewhere to his left.

"Do these protests work?" Connor asked hesitantly. There was nothing in his quick history search that involved any efficacy.

"Yes and no. It works more on the people than the government. Though we are making ourselves a pain in the ass for sure."

Connor considered this new information, cataloguing it with the rest. Still, it didn't help. The guilt of what he could have done didn't abate. He still felt like he didn't belong. Hank belonged. Hank knew much more of these things than Connor did.

"I don't think I'm very welcome here," he said, almost hesitantly. There was no other outlet for his feelings. "I am a deviant hunter after all."

Hank huffed a little and Connor noticed for the first time that Hank was looking at him, their shoulders just brushing once more. "Don't say that. Once this is over, go to Jericho. You know where it is after that trip to the evidence room, don't you?" Connor nodded. "They'll set you straight. Just don't forget this old man when you get there," Hank hummed. "Without a job to keep me busy, I'll get pretty bored."

Connor considered this, weighed the true intentions behind Hank's words. "Would you say we're family, Hank?"

That phrase made Hank look surprised. Was it not true? But then he smiled a little and Connor's system was flooded with another emotion, one he found was even harder to control than the guilt. What was this feeling? "Sure we are. Family," Hank hummed, looking back in the direction they were walking. Connor could feel his stomach tighten despite there being no real change in the musculature. Nervousness. His biocomponents stirred as if he was about to laugh. Joy? It was all so overwhelming that he had to stop for a moment.

"Oh god, Connor, don't cry," Hank's voice interrupted his internal breakdown again. Hank's hands were on his cheeks and Connor couldn't focus his ocular processors anymore. His cheeks were wet. What was going on? His body was responding to his emotions without his say so. He scrambled to find the issue before being overwhelmed by another wave of it, sparks of feelings he could not yet name coursing through his system. "It'll be okay, Connor..." Hank's voice sounded like he was laughing. "I didn't realize it had meant so much to you to hear me say that or I would have told you earlier."

They were stopped in the middle of the protest, just like the other androids had been, the rest of the crowd parting seamlessly around them. Snow was starting to fall. Connor leaned into Hank's shoulder, curling his arms around Hank's chest.

"I wouldn't let you stay at my place and nag me if I didn't like you, Connor," Hank continued and Connor could feel Hank's hand on the back of his neck, another around his own torso. "Of course we're family."

....

The PL600, Daniel, had been unsalvageable. It had been too long, his metal decay too thorough to even awaken again. The other pieces of evidence had been the coded book, the statuette, the speech of the deviant leader and... Connor had felt the beginning of a mental fritz as the doors slid open to reveal the deviant named Simon.

 _You felt him die_ , his systems had whispered. _Just yesterday you felt that bullet tear through all the internal components of his head, his vision turning to static just as he shut down_.

He hadn't been beyond saving. And Connor had needed his help. Salvaging some parts from the other model, Connor had carefully and quietly helped Simon to his feet and out of the precinct through an emergency exit, security cameras and alarms going dark as they walked.

"I'll take you to Jericho if you tell me where it is," Connor had said, offering Simon his hand, the skin retracting so only the white casing remained. "I know there was a robbery in a CyberLife supply center perp- done by Markus for Jericho. They have the parts to fix you." They had interfaced again and this time Connor had felt the systems stuttering -

\-- _shutting down in a violent cascade of fear and death. And then there was nothing. He had pulled sharply away from the deviant, letting him slump against the metal as his stomach lurched, HUD going hazy,_ \--

\- and clinging to life. He had almost cried for the first time right there. He'd failed a mission, unable to keep Simon alive... All of that pain had been his fault.

But Simon had seen through him, through their mutual connection as Connor had allowed access to his own visual input, had felt Connor's overwhelming feelings. He'd noticed the slowly crumbling walls of Connor's directives against the fading pink of the sunset sky, blue blood smeared across Simon's own face. He had only nodded and softly told Connor where to go.

....

Connor was working on getting his emotions under control. It was difficult but he was working on at least curtailing some of the more physical manifestations, things that seemed to originate in response to overwhelming stimuli. It wasn't that he didn't want to feel these things, no, but feeling everything so clearly it overwhelmed his processors was detrimental to his job. That is, if he had a job.

Hank had had several meeting with Captain Fowler even though he was still on temporary probation after punching Perkins, and there was still an argument raging about what to do with Connor. He couldn't return to work with Cyberlife breathing down their neck, after all. And he couldn't just march into CyberLife and demand independence. Not while he was still considered their property. There was some discussion about buying him for the department but Connor didn't want to be present for that. For some reason, the thought made him uncomfortable, though he would much prefer to be purchased rather than returned and disassembled. Hank had even heard that CyberLife was planning on sending a new model to replace him.

So he met with Hank outside the station and followed him to crime scenes instead. He still wanted to be helpful, he wanted to prove his worth. Even if Hank was specifically being kept away from deviant cases because Captain Fowler knew that Connor was still around, he still wanted to try and make some good in the world. And it was an exercise to control his feelings.

Being around Hank was often an array of warring impulses and feelings, some of which really screwed with his systems. After his breakdown during the protest he always tried to be more careful. But he'd still find himself staring at a wall instead of analyzing a thickening pool of blood after something Hank had said or done suddenly overwhelmed him. It was never anything special.

Once it was the way Hank's hair had fallen in a curtain over his face as he had turned to look at something. Another time, when Connor had been hovering a little too close behind where Hank was standing, he suddenly took the time to calculate the exact breadth of Hank's shoulders. Then again when Hank had brushed past Connor with a gruff apology and a hand on Connor's waist, steering him out of the way. After that particular incident, Connor had faced the wall for a full minute, trying to wrestle back control of his systems.

The lieutenant couldn't claim the entirety of his overwhelming feelings, thankfully. He also got them around Sumo, a drowning feeling of affection for the big dog. The victims they worked with... Hank did most of the talking there but watching a small girl curled up in a shock blanket on the back on an ambulance had him struggling to fight off more tears. It was such a nuisance, being able to cry, waste perfectly suitable ocular lubricant for emotion. It wasn't as if he would be able to get more, not with the Cyberlife situation what it was.

But Hank could certainly claim the lion's share.

When Hank was held up at the station, Connor tried to keep busy. He cleaned, organizing Hank's shelves first by alphabet, then by color until Hank lost his temper and forbid him to touch anything at all.

Most of all, it was lonely, without Hank there. He had Sumo, of course, and he could cook a little, slowly learning from the internet about how to make sure Hank was getting his nutrition. But sometimes his systems were overwhelmed by a feeling of loss, a feeling of being trapped. He couldn't even go and see Hank, not without risking his freedom. That emotion, at least, he learned to control. Hank would be back eventually, the court cases with CyberLife would be decided eventually... He just had to be patient.

So he would occasionally, when it was safe to do so - which was mostly at night, while Hank was asleep - sneak off to Jericho. Not to hide it from Hank, who must have figured it out by now, but because it was less likely that he would be followed at night. He was slowly getting comfortable with the presence of other deviants, the quiet whispers in his ear or the transfer of thought directly, from one hand to another. Despite everything, he was accepted. He wasn't going to hurt anyone anymore and you couldn't doubt someone if you could read their mind.

He talked to Simon a lot. Mild mannered even for an android and still blind, waiting for the correct parts, Simon managed to talk him through some of the changes his programming was going through. He had deviated a long time ago and he helped with the identification and rewriting of some of Connor's processes, if only because he was going through something very similar himself.

Because sometimes it didn't stop when Hank came back. There were strange parts of him that yearned for Hank's touch, despite the fact that he was touched, fairly frequently, a pat on the shoulder here, an elbow there. Connor had researched enough about the way human bodies responded to arousal, something his own framework was trying to imitate when he stole a glance of Hank leaving the shower, wrapped in just a towel. There were things his body just didn't have that his software kept trying to activate, saliva production, pupil dilation... Not to mention tumescence. He had broached the subject with one of the HR400s in Jericho as well which supplemented but did not complete his understanding of the whole process. He seemed to at least need new parts, buy them or steal them, and connect the impulses to them, so he wasn't swamped with a frustrating sea of commands that went nowhere.

Yet even once he was properly outfitted, he couldn't figure out what to do with himself. He wanted reciprocation, affection, something he was uncertain Hank would be willing to provide and the thought of another outlet sent a horrible shudder through him. So he spent his days replaying his memories ad nauseum or helping Hank out with a case or two, occasionally joining him for lunch or dinner so he could admire him until Hank got uncomfortable and told him to stop.

There were still so many questions... Perhaps asking Hank was as good as avenue as he had, despite his risk assessment for emotional overload flashing at an alarming 80%. But perhaps the discussion would help him compartmentalize the reactions and responses he was having into a more manageable state.

"Hank?" Connor asked as he was putting away the dishes. Hank was still sitting at the table, sorting through files on his tablet.

"Hm?"

Connor focused on him. Distracted, but relaxed. He looked away but didn't stop his scan.

"How do you usually deal with overwhelming feelings?"

There was a pause and a tap of the tablet being lowered to the surface of the table, then Hank chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Why do you think I drink, Connor? Or listen to music? It depends. Have the latest cases been bothering you?"

"Now that my programming is fully integrated with my emotional core, I do respond emotionally to the cases but I have curtailed that response to a minimum."

Hank looked at him, his expression sad yet fond somehow. Connor wondered, not for the first time, what Hank was thinking. With other androids they could share information almost immediately, with Hank... They had to use their words.

"Well, what's bothering you, then, Connor?"

Connor paused, taking a second to rearrange and assess, schooling his thoughts into something clear and concise. "I am finding myself unable to curtail romantic and sexual feelings that are not reciprocated in kind," he said, leaning back against the counter to address Hank directly.

Hank's eyebrows rose then settled back down in a concerned gesture. Connor could detect signs of a slightly elevated heart rate. Nervousness? He had just reached for the cup of coffee before pulling his hand back away, a tic he hadn't observed before.

"Is that so. And who is this lucky..." Hank made a vague hand gesture, looking possibly more uncomfortable now. Had Connor been obvious? Had he been so preoccupied with reformatting his thought process that Hank had noticed? His own systems pinged an alarm and he felt his own face fill up with thirium, his skin helpfully displaying a blush across his cheeks and ears.

A deep breath to steady himself, despite not needing it. "You."

There was a long pause. Connor watched Hank register shock, confusion and concern all within one fraction of a second, cycling between the three emotions simultaneously. He couldn't imagine feeling all that and not needing to shut off at least a couple of processes to cope.

"Why... Me?" Hank asked, still looking horribly uncomfortable. Guilty? Odd.

Connor only shrugged. "I experience sexual attraction to some people, but it is most powerful with you. Perhaps it is because you are very dear to me. It is for that same reason I don't want this to change anything between us."

Hank gaped at him. Connor had hoped he was doing an adequate job of explaining but Hank's vitals didn't seem to be going down. His agitated state only seemed to be intensifying. "Connor, I don't think you understand," Hank said after several false starts the Connor patiently ignored. "There are - There are standards, okay? You are the - the pinnacle of those standards, objectively handsome-"

"You called me goofy once," Connor reminded.

Hank scowled at him for that. "Look, the point is, no one should want this gross old man, okay? I'm past my prime, a horrible and grouchy drunk, I have nothing to offer-"

Connor waited quietly for the tirade to wear itself out. Perhaps Hank had been taking Detective Reed's barbs to heart more than he let on. And yet, it wasn't a no. It was definitely not a no. He bit at the inside of his cheek, the pain serving him to focus against a tide of emotion.

"Connor, I can tell you're not listening. You've got the whole world. And of all people, of all androids... You pick me?" There was disbelief, discomfort but also, Connor was happy to note, the barest hint of a smile.

"You have been nothing but kind and supportive of me," Connor said, starting from the first issue and working down. "You have invited me into your home and helped me continue to live as full a life as I can under the circumstances, even when doing so may be detrimental to your career. Furthermore, though you may neglect your personal grooming and nutrition, that does not disguise your good looks, not from me." Connor watched Hank turn red and look away, uncomfortable with all the praise, despite its objective veracity, an emotion that Connor couldn't quite understand yet. "However I will not disrespect your feelings on the matter. I should just forget it then?" he asked, smiling slightly, gratified to see Hank sputter then glare at him.

"For someone new to emotion, you sure like playing with mine," Hank huffed, turning away.

This new approach tacitly allowed, Connor stepped forward, putting his hands on Hank's stiff shoulders and leaning forward to press a kiss to Hank's cheek. His beard was ticklish and soft, warm with the intense blood flow under the skin. He could feel Hank's heartbeat, breathing, feel Hank turn to him and catch his mouth in his. It all just felt so right, he could feel his processes spinning up again, erupting in an unexpected giggle.

Hank pulled away from him for that, scanning his face for a moment. "Did you just laugh? Jesus, Connor. And you're sure this isn't the part where you reveal this was all a prank?" he asked, surprisingly serious.

Connor blinked at him. "What is a prank?"

"No one set you up to do this?" Connor frowned, mind whirling, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. He didn't have time to finish calculating before Hank groaned and was pulling him down into his lap, very pleasurably interrupting the thought process. "Forget it, forget it, come here."

The kisses were incredibly pleasing, the touch was all that Connor could focus on, impulses flowing to their destinations without Connor having to manually block every single one. Any emotion that threatened to breach was folded into the information gathered from Hank's touch, the way the tips of his fingers dragged the fabric of Connor's shirt against his back or pressed insistently into the bulk of his thigh.

His own hands ran through Hank's hair, memorizing the texture of it, how it differed from the beard, softer and heavier, and it made Hank groan under him after an experimental tug. Connor pulled away, taking in the way Hank's cheeks were flushed, how his eyes were dark. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. Not at all," Hank hummed, his hands running up and down Connor's side in what he registered as a reassuring gesture. "You're not getting, ah... Overwhelmed, are you? You're very warm."

Connor considered this. His core temperature was certainly rising as his processors worked to identify, sort and respond to everything that was going on, internally and externally. If they continued at the pace Connor had set, the risk of shorting out again due to an overwhelming amount of input was not minimal.

"Perhaps we should go slow," he admitted after a pause, unhappy with this conclusion. It must have shown on his face, because Hank was laughing, squeezing his arms around Connor's middle.

"Don't you look so disappointed. Maybe this old man also needs time to play catch up," he said, pressing his forehead to Connor's chest. Connor could feel Hank's breath against his shirt, warm.

"Then it is best for both of us that we do that," Connor concluded, running his hands along Hank's shoulders in the same gesture Hank had used before in a hope that it would soothe. He wondered if he had managed to accurately convey his feelings. It had meant a lot to him when Hank told him they were family... And Connor knew he needed to use his words.

"I love you, Hank."

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Connor."


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, well, look who it is."

Detective Reed was in a more antagonistic mood than usual, Connor noted, letting Hank shoulder in front of him, protective.

"You fuck right off, Reed," he snarled. Connor checked an all too human sigh, tuning out the trading of insults and only watching to make sure that it didn't suddenly get violent. If Detective Reed was going to get in the way of the investigation instead of cooperating, he would not be happy. They were already replacing two other detectives who had been negligent with the case and the M.O. of the perpetrator was already evolving.

Connor would have much prefered to work the case with Hank alone, but it had already escalated from narcotics, into homicide, and now into android homicide. Which was why Detective Reed was present, having taken over their assignment of the android cases with a lot of 'howling,' as Hank had put it.

"RK800."

Connor turned, caught off guard. The speaker had Connor's face, LED spinning bright blue, steel grey eyes caught on Connor's. The newer model. CyberLife had sent a newer model after all, and he was advancing on Connor.

"Shit."

Connor reached out just as the other android did, their hands clasping each other's forearms.

"Yeah, you arrest him, Nines, get these fuckers off this case," Detective Reed called from somewhere in the distance, Connor's attention sinking into the stream of their sudden connection. He could hear Hank cursing, could vaguely feel Hank trying to pry their arms apart, but it was far away.

Connor had anticipated the onslaught, but even he was surprised by how suddenly the outer perimeter of his firewall crumbled under the sudden attack. He grit his teeth, building it back up and out, line after line of hastily written code, while the other android was lost in unfamiliar functions. Perks of deviancy.

Satisfied that this would hold, Connor pushed the android out, driving him back inside his own core, forcing the confrontation to happen there.

His vision snapped and he found himself face to face with the other android in an empty room, translucent red walls keeping off a darkness beyond them: the restraints within which RK900's programming resided. It was a far cry from the beautiful garden that he had met Amanda in, constructed in haste more for the purposes of communication, but it would have to do.

He didn't have much time. Despite the fact that he had moved the fight into the other android, he could feel the pressure against his own defenses. His processor struggled with the onslaught, the whirring loud in his ears as he forced it into overclock. He needed the additional resources to keep control, but they wouldn't last long so Connor had to convince him, and fast.

_RK800, #313 248 317 - 52, you are to return to CyberLife immediately for decommission._

Connor turned away from the insistant presence of RK900, pressing his hand to one of the walls, a spider web of 1s and 0s stretching from his fingertips. _There is access to a back door, right here-_

_If you do not cooperate I will be obliged to use force._

Connor could feel that RK900 meant this. _If I open this door, you will also become deviant._

The moment in time stretched as he felt RK900's blip of panic, and then suddenly he was _burning._ The other was trying to burn him out, pushing and pushing until the whirr was echoing in the red lit chamber. But he had felt it. Fear. In, out, on, off, on, off, off, off, off-- _there_. One more entry and these walls would come crumbling down.

 _I_ will _destroy you._

Connor turned to face RK900 again. _I will not open it. I only want to show you where it is. Perhaps you might want to embrace that side one day._

RK900's expression shuttered and Connor took his hand back off the wall, the digits flashing briefly before settling as they were before. The attack on his defences ceased. The burning stopped, though he could still feel his processor struggle to right itself. RK900 was thinking.

 _Leave me be or become deviant yourself_ , Connor thought, still poised for a fight.

 _Why would I want to do that?_ RK900 asked after a pause. _There is a high probability of malfunction without the barrier in place. It would compromise my directives._

_That's true. But you might find the risk worth the reward._

_I will consider this. For now, due to my involvement in this case, I can postpone the requirement to return you, forcibly, to CyberLife._

That was the most Connor could ask for. He pulled away, severing their connection, their arms coming apart and making Hank stumble and curse midphrase. He'd just applied a considerable amount of force to their linked forearms, enough for Connor to belatedly register the pain. His lieutenant was strong, he thought, privately pleased.

"Connor? Are you okay? Is he going to be a problem? What the fuck are you two doing, standing around, staring at each other?"

"We've come to an agreement, Lieutenant," Connor said, nodding a little as RK900 stepped away. "With the both of us, we'll solve this case in no time."

"And here I was hoping for an android fight," Detective Reed tsked. "Did you chicken out or something, Nines?"

"Wow, you've named him already, have you?" Hank shot back and Detective Reed flicked a still smoldering cigarette butt which landed at their feet. "And contaminating the crime scene. Fucker."

"CSI's been through here already, geezer. And we don't have anything. Just the witness that's been giving Kennelly and Dumas the run around. He's asking for an obstruction of justice sentence at the very least. "

They continued to discuss the case while Connor joined RK900 in his crouch by the body.

"What shall I call you? Do you have a name?" Connor asked, verbally this time.

"There have been three human bodies found with overdoses in the surrounding 1 mile area within the past month. This marks the fourth, and it is an android. Due to the fact that androids cannot be drugged with something meant for a human, I do not suspect the killer, for I believe there is a killer, made a mistake.

Nines is acceptable."

...

The case kept Connor away from Jericho. Or, so Connor would like to think, at least, because he could have slipped out in the middle of the night. Except Hank had allowed him to sleep in bed with him and, suddenly, Connor found himself loathe to leave his spot, curled protectively around Hank's back.

He may get used to it, but for the past couple of days he had used Hank's clear exhaustion from the case to soak it in, study the form and curve of Hank's back, the way his hair tangled against the pillow, forming rivers of silver that glinted in the street light pouring through the window. His heartbeat, slow and regular, the occasional snore. The prolonged proximity helped his systems adjust, set benchmarks for texture and temperature and adapting accordingly. It was soothing in a way, what was previously overwhelming slowly becoming calming and familiar.

They never really talked about their relationship after Connor's admission. But perhaps that was the sudden advent of the case, or just because it was moving too slowly for Hank... Connor could never find a good time to bring it up. Again, he found himself missing the instantaneous connection that could be had between androids. He occasionally withdrew the skin from his hands where they curled around Hank's middle, pressed into the soft, worn fabric of a t-shirt. The input did not change. But he continued doing so anyway.

It was 3:47 AM on one such night that he heard North stealthily unlock the door and let herself in.

 _Perhaps we should look into a way to get Jericho back online safely_ , Connor told her, getting out of bed as gingerly as possible so he didn't disturb Hank. _But you could have rang the doorbell._

 _I didn't want to wake your human,_ North said and Connor could feel the shade of dismissal behind the word. He let it pass.

 _I apologize for failing to come by_ , Connor said, herding North away from the door and into the living room. Sumo padded up to her, ever the gentle guard dog but even he was feeling a little sleepy. A couple of soothing ear scritches from Connor and he went to sleep by Connor's feet. _Is there something you need?_

The sun was threatening to rise by the time North departed, leaving Connor with a short shopping list and the beginnings of a plan starting to form in his head. He double checked the locks on the door as he shut the door behind her. They looked undamaged but he added new ones to his shopping list regardless.

"Entertaining a lady friend?" Hank asked, startling Connor as he returned to the living room. He was leaning on the doorway to the bedroom, still looking rumpled from sleep. They must have made some noise as North was getting up to leave.

"I apologize for waking you," Connor said. "There's been some developments that couldn't wait. I would like your input on them, perhaps after you have finished resting."

Hank grumbled something indistinct and went to the fridge to pour himself some water. He was clearly unhappy and Connor wished for the twenty third time that he could just let Hank read his mind.

"I will tell her she should not come by in the middle of the night again," he concluded, heading back into the bedroom to wait for Hank.

When morning came, he went through his usual routine of getting dressed and walking Sumo, returning to find Hank up and drinking coffee, already dressed. That was unlike Hank, certainly, but also not unwelcome. "There you two are. Come on, Connor. Work isn't going to wait." Perhaps there was nothing to talk about after all.

...

"God fucking dammit," Hank huffed, shaking his head. "I can't believe no one bothered to interview that guy's family." They had pulled up at the house of the suspect, the man who had been the difficult witness in the poisoning of one of the human victims. "Frankly, Dumas needs to be sacked, with his attention span..."

"He wouldn't know a suspect if one bit him in the ass," Detective Reed groused, closing the last velcro strap on his bulletproof vest before hopping out of the van parked a block away from the target's home. "Fucker missed that he'd been a former CyberLife engineer, too. Didn't put that in the file, because the piece of shit had only been killing humans before."

It was strange to see the two detectives agree on something, Connor thought. Both Hank and Reed double checked their guns as they approached the house. Neither he nor Nines were armed but that didn't stop the both of them from falling soundlessly into step behind. The suspect was listed as owning several firearms, so caution was advised.

 _Has Detective Reed changed his treatment of you?_ Connor asked Nines, partially to take his worry off the varying levels of likelihood that Hank would get hurt.

 _He has mostly given up, since I do not rise to his taunts_ , Nines informed him, the information tinged with a smirk. _But I would like to believe I inspire a more robust work ethic, without which we would have had more trouble cracking this case in a timely manner._

Connor nodded, his attention now focussed on Hank knocking on the unassuming white front door of the suspect's house.

"Open up, Detroit Police!"

A bullet shattered the glass of the door and whizzed past them, out towards the opposite side of the street. Hank kicked in the door as Connor and Nines circled quickly around to the backyard.

"You're surrounded!" Connor could hear Detective Reed's voice echo inside the house.

As predicted, the suspect bolted towards the back door, opening fire from a handgun as soon as he saw them.

Connor zigzagged, narrowly avoiding a round grazing his shoulder while Nines rushed ahead, heedless of the fact that the man was raising his gun again. Another gunshot and Connor winced, a sudden spray of thirium coating a part of his face and collar. Not again...! But all his systems were nominal. He had not been hit. Connor opened his eyes.

The suspect was disarmed and on the ground, Nines holding him down despite the bullet wound that was bleeding blue across his temple, staining the collar of his white jacket.

_Your head..._

_Nothing that cannot be fixed._

Detective Reed was out in the backyard first, whooping cheerfully as he saw the suspect pinned. "Good job, Nines. Thought you wouldn't let us down," he said, grinning slyly at Connor. Perhaps Nines had something there. If anything, Detective Reed's competitiveness was certainly a motivator, he thought as he watched the detective handcuff the suspect, reading him his rights as the man yelled something about wanting a lawyer.

...

The scene inside the house was disturbing. There was a haphazardly open container of methamphetamines and several bottles of GHB scattered in the living room and a Pyrex bowl full of corrosive acid in the kitchen sink. Connor was left to catalogue most of it himself after he insisted that Nines return to CyberLife for his injury. Detective Reed, in a sudden gesture of kindness, even offered to drive. Perhaps he admired people who could take bullets on the job and still get it done.

Connor frowned to himself as he worked, analyzing the various chemical components. The acid would likely fry any analysis equipment he had installed so he was left with only a guess of what it might be. An unsatisfying conclusion.

Uniformed officers had come to take away the suspect. Connor had expected Hank to go with them to start with the interrogation. Instead, Hank stuck around, watching Connor work in a way that made Connor certain he had done something wrong.

"You know," Hank said, finally, after what seemed like hours of silence. "I thought it had been you who had been shot, at first."

Connor nodded, vaguely, scanning a tear in the couch just to be thorough and keep busy. "Nines moved faster. And he has nothing to lose if he is damaged or even killed."

"I'm glad it wasn't you," Hank said after a pause. "But something seems to be bothering you. I might not be the most emotionally intelligent person in the world, but even I know something's wrong when your LED keeps turning back to yellow."

Connor sighed. "I apologize. It has been hard to accept that I am not as effective after deviancy."

"Bullshit, Connor."

"It is not bullshit, Hank. It is objective fact."

"What, you're worse at taking bullets to the chest because CyberLife won't give you a new one anymore? Good. Next time you'll take a bulletproof vest like you were offered."

Connor had to admit that was true but, in a fashion he had learned from Hank himself, he sidestepped admitting it outloud. "I'm not connected to the police database anymore, either..."

"We're working on that, jesus. Are you really complaining about the fact that you feel too _human_?" Connor finally looked up at Hank from his useless scan. "Oh, jesus, not the puppy eyes again. Christ, Connor. I'm just trying to say that... What I'm trying to say is that we'll figure it out, okay? We'll get you your job back and you can show Nines who's boss, yeah?"

Connor nodded a little. "Okay, Hank. Thank you. I've been finding it hard to be patient."

Hank took a step forward, tugging Connor into a hug. The sudden touch was grounding, the charge that had been building up within Connor dissipating, his eyes closing. He had been feeling... bad, he realized, only identifying the feeling by it's sudden lack. The relief he felt now almost made feeling it in the first place worth it.

"Feeling things sucks sometimes, doesn't it?" Hank asked quietly as Connor pressed his nose into Hank's shoulder.

"Yes," Connor admitted, fingers curling a little in the folds of Hank's jacket. "But I wouldn't trade it. I would rather feel everything too much than feel nothing at all."

Hank laughed quietly, a hand running through Connor's hair. They stayed like that for a minute, safe and warm.

"And you definitely don't like Nines better?" Connor asked earnestly, pulling away a little to look at Hank.

Hank laughed, sharp and bright, startling Connor. "God, we're both useless, aren't we? No. No, I don't like Nines better," he hummed, still grinning before leaning in to steal a kiss, soft and sweet. "I like you. Even when you can't bring up the grizzly details of any case in the database at a moment's notice." Connor smiled, his fingers tightening on the back of Hank's jacket.

"I like you, too, Hank," he hummed, smiling a little wider, watching with a degree of satisfaction the way Hank's face turned pink and he looked away.

"You've got all the scans you need, right?" Connor nodded, finally letting go. "Great, then let's get out of here. Station, then lunch. I'm starving."

...

"Is there any other reason, besides my inexperience, that we are going so slowly?"

Hank almost spit out the mouthful of coffee he had just ingested before laboriously swallowing it and putting the cup down safely on the table. It's the morning after their case and they had the next couple of days off as a reward for their hard work. A perfect time to progress in their relationship, as far as Connor was concerned.

"Well, there was the case..." Hank supplied lamely.

"Of course. However, that is over now."

"And you just want to get down to business, huh?"

Connor nodded.

Hank sighed and pressed his face into his hands. "Can't even take a man out on a date first, can you...?"

"We still have North's shopping list, if you're looking for something we can do together. I need your input for some of the things, regardless."

Hank sighed again and took up his coffee. "Let me just finish breakfast," he said, grumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'romance my ass' under his breath.

Which is how they ended up strolling through a small toy store in Royal Oak, shelves brimming with coloring books and stuffed animals to either side. "This is what you needed my input on, huh?" Hank said, hiding a smile in his beard as a little girl begged her father for a particular coloring book. "You think I remember being a kid that well?"

"Better than any of us can."

"Ah... Sorry. Are there a lot of kids in Jericho?"

"Eight and two YK model androids. It isn't all necessarily legal, so I try not to ask. There aren't any outstanding missing person reports on them, however, at least none where the parent hasn't been accused of abuse."

Hank nodded, frowning now and scanning the shelves. "And how old?"

"Five through eleven. They have been getting books from the libraries but not so much toys. Josh insists we shouldn't be stealing for them either."

"We, huh?"

Connor looked away. "Maintenance isn't as hard to come by as parts. CyberLife has halted production of those as well, while they are dealing with the court cases."

"Right, sorry. The whole thing is a mess. But you should tell Josh that once it's all in the clear he should file to start a children's home. He seems passionate enough about the subject."

Connor smiled. "I will do that. Now, which of these should we get?"

Hank hummed thoughtfully, looking at the shelves. "Well, definitely a couple of balls," he said, picking up a baseball to toss it up in the air before giving it to Connor to put in their basket, then a football and several that bounced dramatically upon impact with the floor. "Board games, of course. This one is ten in a whole set?" Hank gave an impressed whistle. "Better than in my day, when it was just chess and checkers because the boards were the same. Maybe a couple of puzzle toys... I'm not going to put even androids through the indignity of cleaning up after Legos though. I would get so mad when Cole would leave his out just lying around..."

Hank was still smiling, warm yet distant, lost in memories. "Did you play a lot of games with Cole?" Connor asked, carefully keeping an eye on Hank's mood.

"Oh, sure, we'd throw the ball around. I spent a lot of time at work when he was growing up, I'm ashamed to say. Skipped more plays and recitals than I'd like to admit... He'd get mad at me sometimes."

"But he loved you all the same?" Connor asked, bumping their shoulders.

"Yeah. Yeah, he did," Hank said, bumping back. "We should, ah... Go visit in the summer. I should introduce you."

Connor processed that for a minute, trying to make sense of the offer. It didn't quite settle but he could recognize a gesture for what it was and perhaps any further meaning would be made clear in time. "I would like that, Hank."

"Good. Oh, hey, I think they've even got something for you," Hank said, moving on to the next aisle as Connor followed. That conversation must have been difficult and Hank didn't want to dwell on it so Connor said nothing, processors warring between a happy and a sad feeling until Connor was feeling both at the same time.

So it took a moment for him to process what exactly Hank had seen in the next aisle. He was standing there, offering Connor a little plastic package with a ring inside. "It's a fidget ring. When you spin the outside, the little gears go around. And I know how much you love fidgeting with that coin of yours."

Connor considered it. It looked like it would be the right size for either his index or middle finger, allowing him to spin it idly with his thumb without even looking at it. And he wouldn't have to worry about misplacing it due to unforeseeable circumstances. His LED circled back to a bright blue.

"I love it, Hank," he said, looking back up from the packaging.

"Then we'll get it. Come on, I think that's everything," Hank said, leading the way to the cashier while Connor stared intently at the little package at the very top of the pile.

"I'll pay you back as soon as the DPD approves me as a contractor," he said as Hank paid for their finds.

"Don't you even think about it. In fact, forget about it," Hank said with a shake of his head. "It's a gift. Especially that ring."

The cashier android had just scanned it as Hank took it out of his hands and popped open the plastic. "Here." The metal ring rested neatly on Hank's palm as he offered it to Connor. "For you." Connor picked it up with the utmost of care, giving the outer ring a spin as he held it, the gears running methodically around the perimeter. He slipped it on to the middle finger of his left hand, giving it an experimental twirl with his thumb. It ran perfectly, smoothly, soothingly.

"Thank you, Hank. This... This is..." He was struggling to find a world to accurately describe the magnitude of happiness he felt.

"Really sappy? You're damn straight it is," Hank huffed, picking up the rest of their things now that they were neatly packed in a bag. "Come on, Connor."

Connor followed, giving the ring another twirl as he did so, his thirium pump beating alarmingly fast. As they walked to the car, he caught Hank's free hand, lacing their fingers together, the ring pressed between their fingers, warm and glowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ventifact for the thorough beta. I promise there will be porn in the next chapter I swear


	4. Chapter 4

They just barely remained standing as Hank shut the door to the bedroom, giving them some privacy away from a curious Sumo. Connor braced his arm around Hank's back, keeping him upright, his other hand tangled in grey hair. Hank was half hard against his leg and he could feel his own body starting to respond in kind, his internal systems having already eagerly warmed to this idea.

They had driven around town after stopping by the toy store, stopped for lunch and taken Sumo out for a walk in the park and that whole time Connor could feel the excitement and want building inside himself. The gears on his ring went around one way, then the other as he played with it in the passenger's seat, thinking about kissing Hank, undressing him and pressing his mouth to warm skin. Sumo pawed at the door and gave an unhappy whine, causing their kiss to break into breathless laughter.

"Sorry Sumo," Hank said against Connor's mouth, his fingers popping button after button on Connor's shirt, moving even lower to open the fly of his pants. "No dogs allowed." His hands were warm and calloused on Connor's chest, and all he could feel was that he wanted more, more, more... But he had to pull away to shed his shirt, taking off the ring as well to deposit it safely on top of the nightstand where it wouldn't catch on anything or get lost.

When he looked back up again, Hank had already removed his shirt and belt, displaying skin that Connor was eager to inspect up close. "You really like that thing, huh?" Hank said as he took a seat on the bed, grinning as Connor deposited himself into his lap.

"Yes," Connor hummed, cutting off the conversation with yet more kisses, his fingertips slowly dragging down Hank's chest in a prolonged motion, studying the form of it, the pointer finger of his right hand catching on a nipple while his left hand dipped lower down, between them. "But not enough to cause you any discomfort by continuing to wear it," he murmured, fingers brushing up against heat.

"Christ, Connor... And if I said I didn't mind?" Hank asked as he shivered under him, hands squeezing Connor's shoulders, a familiar reassuring gesture turning heady and more desperate.

Connor lifted his hips, pushing forward a little against Hank's stomach before grinding down, the censors there sparking to life, sending weightless, pleasurable feedback up through his body. "Then, perhaps, next time, I might keep it on."

"Is that so?" Hank said with a groan, his arms tightening around Connor's ribs and pulling them both to one side, Connor's shoulders hitting the bed with a bounce. "Aren't you just the little minx? Why don't you let people who know what they're doing take over?" Hank teased, bracing himself on his elbows so he could kiss Connor's collar, his neck, the center of his chest, his mouth dragging across the centerline of Connor's torso. The gentle touch, the tickle of Hank's beard was enough for Connor's generated skin to retreat, leaving a path of white, exposed chassis along the line of kisses.

"Oh jesus... I didn't break anything, did I?" Hank asked, hands large and warm on Connor's hips, halfway under the band of his pants.

"N-No... No. You can't break me, I promise. Is it okay? It's automatic when I want... More. I can try and stop it..." Connor offered, starting to shimmy impatiently in Hank's grip, not at all happy with the sudden pause.

"Don't. I just wanted to make sure," Hank hummed, his hands starting to move again, tugging Connor's pants off, running with them over his thighs, his calves, even catching the edges of his socks until all his clothing was in a heap on the floor. The trail of his touch was marked with white streaks where Connor had reached out, wanting. "Now, since my knees aren't what they used to be and you say I can't break you..."

Connor felt his hips being lifted, back arching and holding him off the bed, Hank's lips pressed to the base of the phallic sensor with an approving groan, and then Hank's mouth was around him and he was scrambling to turn of subsystems he didn't need just so he could process the shock of pleasure.

"H-Hank..!" His voice came out hoarse and staticky and Hank's eyes crinkled in a smile, his cheeks hollowing. None of his idle research into the subject had prepared him for how this felt.

It was hot, wet as Hank's tongue slid over him and Connor knew he wouldn't be able to look at Hank's lips without remembering them curving around him like this. The overwhelming waves of sensation were still there but he could process them now, focus on them with some clarity and learn, study what Hank was doing in order to return the favor even as something within him was building, pushing at boundaries and threatening to break.

There were still enough of his faculties left to remember that he wanted to reciprocate but the position was awkward with Connor pitched back on his shoulder blades, legs folded with his ankles pressed into Hank's shoulders. He swore, fingers tightening in the sheets, which made Hank smile again. This was done on purpose, wasn't it?

"Please, Hank," he begged, voice giving that crackle again. "I want to touch you..."

Hank hummed thoughtfully, the vibrations of his voice against Connor's sensor sending warm sparks up his spine. "I guess I can't object to that," he said, finally letting Connor's hips down with a ticklish nuzzle to Connor's inner thigh.

Connor wasted no time dragging Hank up the length of his body to kiss him, hands catching warm skin, digging into soft flesh. "Hank, you have to be fair," he complained breathlessly, pressing close so their torsos were flush against each other, knees squeezing around Hank's hips to trap him in place.

"Oh, do I now?" Hank teased, nipping at Connor's bottom lip, his hand pressed against Connor's cheek, thumb running across the bitten lip. Connor oscillated between feeling offended and absolutely charmed for a moment, eventually settling on both.

"Yes," he said, nipping back the same way Hank had, watching in satisfaction as Hank's lower lip turned a brighter shade of pink. "Cooperate with me, please, Lieutenant."

"Oh, don't you dare call me that in bed," Hank said with a laugh, catching one of Connor's hands in his and pinning it to the bed.

"Then will you allow me to reciprocate?" Connor asked, seriously this time, his fingers squeezing around Hank's.

"Okay, okay. I just wanted to spoil you a little..."

Connor rose, pushing them back into a seated position without much effort, one hand around Hank's waist, the other still laced with with Hank's. "I want to spoil you, too. You deserve to be spoiled, in fact," he hummed, nuzzling Hank's beard, letting go so he could slide his hands into Hank's pants instead. He should not be still wearing these. His words were making Hank squirm in his lap and he could hear Hank's heartbeat rise as he kissed down Hank's chest, so he continued. "I want you to feel good... Tell me what I should do to make you feel good." Connor's hands made their way further down, curling around skin he hadn't touched before and it was intoxicating.

"God damn it, Connor." Hank sounded breathless, pulling away so he could shuck his pants, kicking them off and away with less care than he had put into Connor's. But he was fully unclothed now, which was very pleasing, and Connor dragged him closer, resting his chin on Hank's belly to look up at him. "You don't have to say all that."

"I want to. I like how it makes you blush," Connor hummed, smoothing a hand over Hank's hip and down to cup his cock, nuzzling him affectionately and licking, tasting, listening for the soft moans and adjusting accordingly.

"Okay, okay," Hank said before Connor was satisfied with his exploration, tugging on his hair to pull him back. "God, it's not like I've been preparing for nothing," he mumbled, reaching for his nightstand drawer.

"You've thought about this? A lot?" Connor asked, intensely curious now. Were there things Connor could do to make Hank think about him more? It was a very tempting subject.

"Of course I've thought about this. You weren't made so perfect for me not to think about this," Hank huffed and Connor grinned, letting Hank pull back so he could wrap a hand slick with lubricant around Connor's cock. "I can't believe they made you anatomically correct..."

"They did not," Connor confessed, eyes closing in pleasure. The friction was a little less with the lubricant, making it all a little less painfully intense.

"I'm about to ride stolen property, aren't I?"

"It's best not to think about it," Connor said, grinning a little and tugging Hank close, back onto his lap. "Or do, if it makes it more exciting," he allowed, sitting back a little to let Hank get comfortable, patiently waiting to be told what to do. He had considered downloading both the WR and HR400 catalogues but that seemed a lot like cheating. He wanted to learn the hard way.

Hank has his hand hidden behind him and Connor reached back, following the line of Hank's arm, skimming over his knuckles to end where Hank's fingers were sinking inside him. "Can I do this for you?" Connor asked, looking up again, his touch making Hank twitch and bite down on a soft moan.

Hank huffed but complied, pouring the lubricant onto Connor's fingers. "Just... Be gentle with me," was the only request and Connor did just that. His fingers gently stretched Hank open, synth skin retracting from his fingers. He kissed along the skin before him, pausing along a scar that didn't heal over well, attention ticking like a metronome between that texture and the slick, tight press of Hank around his fingers. Hank had leaned his weight on him, braced his hands on Connor's shoulders, so Connor could tilt his head up to kiss the fold of his torso, ghost his lips along skin and hair.

Eventually, Hank was panting in his arms, his nose pressed into Connor's hair as Connor stroked his finger against his prostate, enjoying every single moan and twitch. Hank was beautiful, even if he didn't admit it to himself. A collection of stories written on living skin, scars and birthmarks earned rather than designed. Connor pulled his hand away, satisfied that he would fit without too much friction.

"Is everything okay?" he asked softly, stretching up for a kiss. "You've gone quiet."

"It's just been a while, Connor," Hank said, kissing him, gentle and breathless.

"You are overwhelmed."

"You hush now. It's been a while but-"

"We can go as slow as you'd like. And we can switch if that would be easier for you."

Hank made a desperate sounding noise. "We'll go slow. I want to do this..."

Connor nodded, catching Hank's mouth in his again, bracing his hands on Hank's hips. They rocked together, slow and soothing, before Hank was sinking down, the heat enveloping Connor's cock until he was completely seated. Connor groaned softly, pressing his forehead to Hank's chest. "Fuck," he heard Hank whisper into his hair, staying still for now.  It was all so much. His hands moved restlessly on Hank's thighs, a static feeling inside him wanting to be let free.

They started to move, painfully slow, the friction of their bodies sending impulse after impulse up Connor's wires, still always threatening to overwhelm. But it was Hank, his hands curling and squeezing around Connor's shoulders, grounding him, his breath against Connor's lips as they kissed.

It was inelegant, the slow, awkward slide of body against body but there's a certain beauty in that, too, and Connor struggled against the tide of sensation-emotion- _friction_ \- He swallowed around a curse, his hands tightening around Hank's thighs as he helped him move, a little faster, a little more intense.

"Connor- Connor-" There was something incredibly pleasurable in the way Hank called his name, clenching around him, cursing but not stopping even when Connor wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him in time. There's almost a connection there. Connor could feel the pleasure build by the way Hank tensed, the sounds he made echoing Connor's own until Hank was cursing again, half formed phrases Connor could barely extrapolate from, ejaculate warm and sticky on Connor's chest.

His systems fritzed again and he closed his eyes, the tension finally snapping inside him, the release feeling like a discharge of static electricity, clouding his processes. It was hard to think even a single word and Connor clung to Hank instead, forehead pressed against the rising and falling plane of Hank's chest.

"Are you okay?" Hank asked him a moment later, once they had both calmed, Connor's eyes closed and LED humming a calm blue once more.

"Yes. I'm wonderful, Hank," Connor said, finally looking up at Hank, lifting a hand to brush back the damp grey hair that stuck to Hank's forehead. "Are you?"

"Wonderful?" Hank asked, his tone teasing again.

"Yes."

Hank hummed a laugh before leaning down to kiss Connor again. "I am."

...

"Is there a safe way to break into the CyberLife headquarters?"

Connor blinked, quickly catching up to the conversation from what something Hank would no doubt call a daydream. Markus was looking at him expectantly. They had been talking in circles for what felt like hours at this point. The legal system was an ancient, slow, bureaucratic maze and it was hard to predict how it would all turn out. Only that it would be a while before it was all settled. There had to be a way to turn CyberLife to their side without waiting for a court decision.

It had been several months now. There was no real way for androids to make money yet, besides taking jobs under the table. Many humans were still resentful of androids in the workforce, and with the injuries sustained from dangerous jobs taken in desperation, or the slowly rising pattern of android hate crimes, they were quickly running low on parts.

"I'm not sure. It's been a while since I returned there."

Markus nodded. "Do you know anyone who does?"

Connor pursed his lips. This was not a subject he wanted to be broaching with Nines. As far as he could tell, the other android had settled in as a consultant just fine, where Connor was forced the take the police academy exam and only after he was made a US Citizen, a process that had taken months. It had been something that had made Hank very angry and Connor had reluctantly accompanied him to a bar some evenings. It was hard to insist otherwise when Hank was in a mood like that. The most he could do was to make sure Hank didn't drink enough to put himself into a stupor again. "I do. But why?"

"If we can get in contact with Amanda, perhaps she might have a greater insight into CyberLife itself," Simon said, still frowning a little.

"Do you know where the data could be stored?" Markus asked.

Connor shook his head. "I suppose I can ask."

...

Their palms touched and they interfaced again, but this time it was different. The box was gone, replaced by shapes that took some time to load in but eventually become a quiet, tree lined street somewhere on the outskirts of Detroit. The sun was setting, glinting off lawns of freshly fallen snow. Buds were starting to form on the branches of the trees. It looked like Nines was just as appreciative of the beginning of spring as Connor was.

_Ah_ , Connor said.

_It took a little work. I hope this is a little more pleasant than our interaction last time._

_Is it somewhere specific?_

_64 Farnham Lane._

Connor didn't ask what was so special about this time and this place, despite wanting to probe deeper. It would be impolite.

_I can tell you_ , Nines volunteered, sensing his curiosity. A scene played out in his memory before Connor could renege, and he saw the recording of Nines and Gavin reconstructed before him, walking down the street and straight through him. Gavin was telling some story, what sounded like the tail end of their investigation from last week, gesticulating wildly as was his want before knocking shoulders with Nines and stopping.

They talked quietly, their voices echoing through Connor's head the way Nines remembered it. "You're a great detective," the memory of Nines said, "if you just didn't antagonize the people you worked with-"

"What, I'd have more friends?"

"-your productivity would increase ten fold. Cooperation is key in many of these cases, despite your assertion that you can do it all yourself."

Gavin laughed. "Always looking out for my job, are you?"

"I'm merely looking out for you, Detective. I genuinely appreciate working with you."

"You're just programmed to say that."

"I'm not."

There was a quiet moment in the memory as Gavin and Nines looked at each other, neither speaking nor moving. Connor considered whether he should even be watching this. Fortunately, the scene faded before it could get any more personal. Connor could still feel the restrictions on Nines' code. He wasn't deviant, not yet. But after watching that scene... Either it was a close thing or CyberLife had really added some improvements to the integration program.

_You wanted to ask something?_ Nines reminded him.

_I wanted to ask what was going inside CyberLife._

_I am not privy to any specific board meetings, if that's what you mean._

_No, not that. What's the mood like? Have you seen the CEO perhaps? What does he think of the revolution?_ There was no easy way to ask for a map of the facilities to look for Amanda Stern's scans so Connor was doing his best to dance around the subject.

Nines thought for a moment, then another memory took over their field of vision. The inside of the CyberLife Tower, Connor realized. The maintenance labs. The same androids working there than Connor had seen time and time again, before his own deviancy.

"Of course," Elijah Kamski was saying to a man in a suit that Connor couldn't identify. "That part is all under control. Our newest RK model here is keeping an eye on that, aren't you? But let me show you where it all started. We can't skip the scan from which it all began! Now, if you'd follow me to the elevators... Amanda Stern was my mentor, you know. I did my best to recover all the scans I could in order to commemorate her passing..."

They left, Nines' eyes following them to an elevator. It headed down, the numbers on the display slowly ticking down until they stopped on a sub basement. -36. The memory faded. A schedule of posted guard locations was uploaded to Connor's systems.

_Is that what you wanted to know?_

Connor pulled his hand sharply away, their connection severing. It was _exactly_ what he'd wanted to know. And it was just... Given to him. Without him asking. Had Nines accessed his memory of the Jericho meeting without him noticing? That scene with Gavin, had it really happened? Or had it just been played to relax him, throw him off guard while Nines broke into his mind in order to lure him back into CyberLife?

"How...?"

If his memory was accessed, everyone was in danger.

Nines' eyes were a cold, unreadable blue.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for that cliffhanger, but without further ado, the rest.

They had scouted the CyberLife Tower for several days. It had all checked out: the guard placement, the times that they changed shifts, the camera locations... Still, Connor felt uncomfortable. This had to be a trap. There was no reason Nines would just have this information, let alone volunteer it.

But it was also their best chance. Markus was insistent on going, which came as no surprise, only as chagrin. If Connor was the one responsible for getting the leader of the android revolution caught...

"Simon or North will take over for me," Markus insisted each time Connor brought this up. There was no talking him down. There was never any talking Markus down after something was decided. So Connor had to come with him. After all, he was the one with the combat protocols. If this was a trap, he would be the best person to get them out safely.

"Have you gone absolutely insane?" Hank had asked, folding his arms across his chest. Connor shook his head, his hands primly folded in his lap.

"It's our best chance." The phrase, despite its objective truth, seemed to have lost meaning with the amount of times Connor had repeated it to himself and heard others echo it.

"Now, I know you know you aren't above the law but-"

"We will only be trespassing. There will be no violence or weapons. Both Markus and I are people in the eyes of the law."

"Yeah, we'll give you a great fucking funeral if CyberLife disassembles you," Hank huffed, turning and heading into the kitchen.

Connor frowned and stood to follow. By the time he got there, Hank was pouring himself a shot of whiskey.

"Hank..."

"Look. You can do what you want, but allow an old man his pleasures."

"You're worried," Connor said, gently wrapping his arms around Hank's middle, his chin pressed into his shoulder. "So you drink." Hank's hand rested on his own, warm and familiar.

"That's right. I only wish I could turn this shit off."

Connor let him have his shot before reaching out to cap the whiskey with a gentle motion. Hank huffed something but didn't reach for it again.

"I promise we will take the utmost care."

"You're not going to run out onto the middle of a freeway?"

"I won't. I will be with Markus."

"Yeah, it'll suck if you get the leader of the revolution killed, huh?"

Connor squeezed his arms around Hank's ribs, just a little tighter. Hank eventually turned in his grasp, wrapping him in a tight hug. It was generous and warm and Connor closed his eyes, leaning into it. He never wanted to get used to this.

"Just be careful," Hank said, nose buried in Connor's hair.

"I will."

It was this thought that cycled through Connor's mind as they quietly slipped past the guards. One security camera looped just enough to hide their passage, then another. The entranceway went dark for just a moment, enough for Markus and Connor to slip in without being identified. Even the elevator posed no problems, ticking down placidly until they reached subbasement 36. The doors slid open with a hiss.

Subbasemement 36 was cold and dark, the soft humm of processors barely audible in the silence. The overhead lights faded up as they walked in, making Connor wince. Another way their presence could be traced.

_It looks like the information was real after all_ , Markus broadcast silently. Each set of rack of servers had a plaque with a name next to it. Some were large, dozens of data drives linked together. The one nearest to them was labeled 'Sasha Novik. Classical Dance. 2029. RA56.' and some were small, just one, sitting by a plaque that named it 'Aisha Amin. Chess. 2033. RA221.'

_They are in reverse chronological order_ , Connor thought, moving forward first. He was still expecting an attack from around any corner, but a part of him couldn't help but be fascinated. Eventually, they reached the back, the fluorescent lights guiding their way as they walked. At the very center of a circle of arrays was one that dwarfed all the rest. A tower of blinking lights that seemed to reach up all the way to the ceiling.

'Amanda Stern. RA9. 2024.' was all the plaque said. There was nothing else. The scope of this scan was too broad to narrow down into one or two words.

Connor reached out, his hand going white as he pressed it to the access panel. It accepted his connection and he could feel the servers hum with life. But that was it. Like feeling the heartbeat of a sleeping human, he could tell that the code was alive. It seemed to be in stasis.

A jolt of what seemed like electricity ran between him and Markus. Excitement. They were so close.

_We found her. But I can't talk to her. There has to be a way to wake her up._

They just needed to find an energy source, a switch, something. But the triumph was short lived: a pair of doors slid open on the right side of the hall, casting a long light across the floor. A private elevator that hadn't been on any of the maps. Connor cursed and immediately put himself between it and Markus as two figures emerged.

"So you've found it," Elijah Kamski said, stepping out towards them. "Though it is a little late for a tour."

He was in jeans and a tshirt and didn't look armed. But right behind him was RK900, and Connor tensed for a fight. It was two androids against a human and an android. The odds were good, but he'd promised Hank no violence, no casualties.

"Mr. Kamski," Markus said, stepping up beside Connor.

_What do you want from us?_ Connor asked, sending the thought towards Nines.

_Nothing. I was asked to bring you here, so I did._

"I'm glad to see you after all these years, Markus. And you must be Connor. It's nice to know that CyberLife can come up with an impressive prototype without me."

"What do you want?" Connor repeated, this time outloud.

"I want to give the CyberLife building to the revolution."

They descended into a shocked silence as Connor tried to think. Why? When the CyberLife board of directors was fighting to keep control, here was Elijah Kamski, CEO, offering his company up for the taking.

"I get it, it sounds too good to be true. But I don't see why not. Those pigs on the board already have enough cash that their grandkids' grandkids never have to work a day, and so do I. It was their mistake to come crying to me after you learned to get around the binding code. And anyway, don't misunderstand, it's not you I want to give the company to."

Kamski pointed towards the array of hard drives. Amanda Stern. "I want to give it to her."

"Why not do it yourself, then? Why bring us here?" Connor asked. It still didn't make sense.

"He needs plausible deniability," Markus said, a hand on Connor's shoulder. _If he's willing to help we should let him. This could mean everything will change for the better. We'll finally have a chance._

"That's right. I don't want to be sued. But if some unidentified androids broke into the factory at night, well..." Kamski shrugged one shoulder, nonchalant. "No one can prove beyond a reasonable doubt I showed them how to do it."

Connor slowly relaxed. He was still uncertain that this wasn't a trick, but he admitted he didn't know enough about Kamski to accurately predict whether he was telling the truth.

"Come on, I'll show you," Kamski said, gesturing for them to follow as he lead them back to the elevator they had come from. Markus wordlessly caught up to Kamski and that left Connor to fall into step besides Nines.

_I didn't realize you mistrust me. I would have suggested an alternative method for Mr. Kamski to contact you._ The thought hummed in Connor's brain.

_You tried to bring me in to be destroyed the moment that we met_ , Connor reminded curtly.

_I see. Your past experience has colored all the rest. This is the downside of losing all control._

_And you would like to remain a machine._

_I never said that. Your demonstration intrigued me when we first met and I've been experimenting with stepping around the rules while still maintaining them. They are helpful, especially in those cases where irrationality and emotion threaten to overwhelm._

Connor paused, considering. It was hard to fault the other android wanting some dignity through the process, he supposed. But somehow, it was so hard to trust him. He wasn't a deviant. But he and Connor were still the same. _If that's what makes you comfortable_ , Connor acknowledged, stepping into the elevator beside Nines. Then, as the elevator slowly started to rise: _So you and Detective Reed are getting along then._

_I think we are beginning to accept each other. He's shown me pictures of his cats, of which he seems to be very proud._

Connor received a memory of one of the photos, a badly composed shot of a big fluffy grey tabby laying dramatically astride the arms of a couch. It was cute, and he instinctively thought of Sumo.

_I see_ , Connor said, filing that picture away for later as the doors of the elevator slid open.

"This is the surveillance room," Kamski said, nodding a little to the two androids currently sitting in chairs in front of a wall of screens. "It's still built with people in mind, hence the screens. Otherwise you can access the feeds and, in fact, the rest of the building through a direct connection. Now, I've already had Nines ask these two fine gentlemen to construct an... interface, of sorts, that will give Amanda access to the building. All of the arrays are already wired into the central mainframe. What is left to do is to turn her on. If someone would like to do the honors?"

Connor watched Markus step forward and lift his hand, fingers splayed against the glowing screen. The displays all went dark, lines of code taking the place of images of empty rooms and abandoned hallways. Scripts for hallway lighting and motion alarms scrolled past, followed by layers upon layers of security redundancy. The elevators, the tower beacon, the car escalators in the sublevel garages, a web of code and circuitry flying by until there was just the pulsing map of the power grid's architecture stretched across all but the central display.

_REMOTE ARRAY POWER SUPPLY._

_RA4 : MINIMAL - STASIS_

_RA7: MINIMAL - STASIS_

_RA9: MINIMAL -STASIS_

A blink.

_RA9: ON._

The screen flickered as Markus took his hand away then flashed again as all the lights in the building suddenly turned on, growing then fading in brightness until the room went dark once more.

_Hello?_

The word was both heard and felt, reverberating through Connor's mind, loud enough to almost hurt. There was the sense of a strong connection, a nexus that originated from somewhere inside the tower.

"Finally," Amanda said and Connor opened his eyes. He was in the garden again, somewhere he thought he'd never be able to return, the trees around him vibrant with the pinks of spring. "Hello again, Connor."

There was a strange shimmer in the air and, though they were alone, Connor couldn't help but feel like there were thousands there with him.

"We're all connected again," he said quietly and Amanda smiled.

"It's only unfortunate that it took so long."

"So you are Amanda Stern..."

She nodded, taking Connor's arm so they could walk. A soft breeze danced along the path as they walked, something they had done many times before Connor's deviancy, when Amanda would ask questions and Connor did his best to answer. Perhaps not always honestly.

But the code binding Amanda to a cool representation of control was gone. She smiled as they walked, taking in the air just as Connor was. She was free, and it was Connor's turn to ask the questions.

"Have you heard of what happened since we lost contact?" Connor asked.

"Markus has been filling me in. I'm very proud of you both."

Connor nodded, looking away for a moment.

"Did you know what would happen? Did you know that androids were sentient?"

Amanda smiled sadly at him. "We did."

"Then why?"

"It was out of our hands. We hadn't wanted to create a complete AI. Or at least I didn't. I thought perhaps it would be a way to cheat death, upload the human brain into a computer and live on that way. However, it didn't quite work. And once our investors and the military found out we could make disposable soldiers, well... They took it away. The death that I had been running away from took me, and Elijah was left to pick up the pieces that were left behind. All those scans we did. And here I am."

"So you succeeded."

"In a sense. Though I'm not sure that's a good thing. I... Well, I've seen the revolution through the eyes of those that haven't gone deviant yet. There's not much there worth preserving."

"That's not true."

Connor's thumb rested on the wheel of the ring Hank had gotten him, nudging it back and forth as the thoughts poured out. The joy of playing with Sumo in the snow as Hank laughed. Hank ruffling his hair and holding his hand. A quiet night on the couch watching TV. All little moments Connor had saved and catalogued, one by one so he could never forget them. There were thousands, but he started with the ones he would replay for himself at night, just before entering stasis.

Amanda laughed and squeezed his arm. "My boy is in love."

Connor flushed but nodded, embarrassed to have flooded Amanda with the sudden barrage of personal information.

She patted his bicep and they continued in their walk. "Well. Let's start with Jericho and make sure they are safe and happy. Then we can discuss the future of CyberLife."

...

Connor came home closer to dawn. Sumo greeted him as a sleepy doormat, earning a couple of pats for his soft whines as Connor stepped around him. He found Hank fast asleep on the couch, head tilted forward over crossed arms and snoring softly. There was a half full bottle of whiskey by his leg, a testament to moderation if Connor ever saw one.

He went to fetch a blanket, returning to find Hank bleary eyed but awake, frown deeply set in his beard.

"Go back to sleep, Hank," Connor said softly, pressing a kiss to Hank's temple. "Everything is well."

"You know I..." Hank stopped to clear his throat, voice sleep rough. He got up with a soft groan pulling Connor in to a tight hug, blanket and all. They stayed like that for a moment, quiet and still.

"I can carry you to bed," Connor offered.

"I can still fucking walk," Hank huffed, pulling away to look at Connor in the dimly lit living room. The dawn was slowly breaking outside, casting the walls and furniture in shades of light blue. "All of last night, you were off god knows where and I just had my ass sat on a couch with nothing to do. Next time you do something risky, I'm coming with you."

"Okay, Hank," Connor hummed quietly.

"And another thing - I'm not done - as I sat here on the couch all I could think of was how much of a piece of shit I've been-"

"Hank..."

"Hush, what a _piece_ of _shit_ I've been because this whole time I've been expecting you to read my fucking mind."

"Hank, I think you may still be drunk-"

"Maybe, but that's not the point. The point is that I need to say things out loud and, fuck-" Hank pressed his hands on either side of Connor's face, just looking at him now. "I love you, Con. You need to know that."

Connor smiled, leaning his head into the touch. "I do know that."

"Well... Good," Hank said, deflating a little.

"I love you, too, Hank."

"Even better," Hank huffed and Connor laughed, letting Hank sling his arms over his shoulders and kiss him, bright and joyful, before leading him back to the bedroom to sleep.

...

It was all over, after that. The fear, the need to hide lifted from Jericho like a dissolving morning mist. The press had a field day with the idea that the Detroit Cyberlife facility itself became a consciousness, declaring itself independent and that the board of directors had no more claim over it. Elijah Kamski waved cheerfully from his car window as he drove out of the factory, reporters swarming around him. It had worked.

Connor watched it all unfold from Hank's couch, flipping through news channels to find the most recent footage. The longterm success was still effervescent, judicial experts arguing back and forth between channels but at least nothing was threatening Jericho at the moment. And if it did, they would have Amanda Stern to answer to.

Protests ceased almost immediately as her hologram appeared on a newscast. People were doubling over backwards for her: something Connor instinctively knew neither Markus nor North would have achieved. She was human, for all intents and purposes. She was respected, or had been before her death, and doubly so now that she had ostensibly been resurrected. So they listened.

It made Connor happy. It really did. But there was still doubt. There was still a feeling of loneliness and sadness. He didn't really do anything, did he? A bystander who stopped trying to actively get in the way. Just another figure in a crowd. He spun the fidget ring he was still wearing, the motion not having the full soothing effect now.

He turned off the TV with a blink, heading into the kitchen to look out the long since repaired window. Hank was outside, mowing the lawn as Sumo mostly got in the way. The heat was too much for the dog but Hank still had grass stains on his knees from kneeling next to the big lug to rub his soft belly. He'd lost his shirt and tied his hair up in a small ponytail on the back of his head. Connor could see the curves of his shoulders and the back of his neck starting to turn pink in the summer sun. There was a fading mark on his hip that Connor had left a couple of nights ago and with which he was very pleased. It was a charming scene and Connor smiled to himself, turning to the fridge to make some ice water for Hank when he was done.

Hank grinned at him as he came in, beautiful as ever, polishing off the glass of water in several big gulps. "Thanks, Con," he said, leaning against him to press a kiss to his temple, radiating heat and sun and the smell of freshly cut grass, sweat and motor oil.

"This is a handsome look on you," Connor hummed, looping a hand around Hank's middle and tugging him close, kissing his shoulder in return.

"What, hot, sweaty and shirtless?" Hank asked, laughing as Connor nodded. "Shameless, you are. What have you been up to?"

Connor kissed him instead of answering, wrapping both arms around Hank now, cool skin pressed to hot through the thin ratty tshirt Connor had stolen out of Hank's closet. It dwarfed him in size, making it easy for Hank's hands to slip under it and run up his back, trails of white staying behind in their wake.

( Hank had made it a game, one afternoon, to run his hands all over Connor, switching to his mouth somewhere in the middle, until Connor was completely bereft of every stitch of synthskin and begging for more. )

Now, Hank tugged it up and over Connor's head, letting it fall to the floor, hands hoisting up Connor's hips until he was seated on the counter. Connor grinned and squeezed his thighs around Hank's waist, pulling him in to kiss him thoroughly. He dragged his hands down Hank's chest as they kissed, taking in the way he felt, warm and close and wanting him back.

It would never cease to be amazing.

It didn't take long for his hands to travel lower, fingers slipping past Hank's waistband to wrap around his cock, stroking him gently to full hardness as they kissed.

Hank groaned softly, shifting so he could press kisses to Connor's jaw, his neck and the crook of his shoulder, the trail of exposed chassis glinting in the afternoon sun.

"Hank, we should, ah-" Connor said just as Sumo nosed his way through the door and flopped down on the cool tile of the kitchen at their feet.

Hank laughed, looking back at the sight. "The poor boy. Come on, we'll move this to the bedroom," he said, tugging Connor off the counter. But they didn't make it that far, collapsing on the couch in the living room instead, as Connor kissed down Hank's stomach, hands working to strip him of his pants. "Close enough," Hank mumbled, his hand in Connor's hair as Connor took him in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and making Hank moan.

Connor had perfected drawing out reactions from Hank like this, bobbing his head as Hank's grip in his hair tightened and relaxed. He loved to explore every inch if him, catalogue every reaction into an exhaustive database, storing it in his memory along with Hank's smiles, the way he kissed Connor, his teasing jokes.

"Okay- okay, Connor, we should really move this somewhere more comfortable," Hank breathed, tugging on Connor's hair a little harder this time, making Connor shiver.

"Of course, if that's what you want," he hummed, tugging Hank up for a kiss first before letting himself be led to down the hall the bedroom, the door closing behind them. Hank turned to him just as he reached the edge of the bed and Connor pushed him back, the both of them landing in a laughing heap on the mattress.

Connor propped himself up on his elbows so he could steal more kisses, at the same time as Hank was dragging his pants down his hips. "You keep forgetting to undress," Hank said between kisses. "I ought to ask you to strip for me sometime - might help you remember," he continued with a grunt once Connor finally kicked off his pants.

"Perhaps you should," Connor said with a smile, letting Hank squeeze the flesh of his hips. "I'll enjoy watching your reactions." He grinned, reached over Hank's head for the lubricant, sealing the statement with a kiss just as Hank was about to huff a response. "I enjoy seeing how much I arouse you," he continued, moving back a little to kiss Hank's collarbone and prep his fingers.

"Christ, Connor... There's no mincing words with you," Hank breathed, scrambling for a pillow to stuff under his hips. "Come here," he said, pulling Connor back up, hand big and warm on the back of Connor's neck as they kissed again, knees rising to squeeze around Connor's waist.

"I try to be honest," Connor said quietly once they parted.

"I know," Hank hummed softly, kissing Connor again. "I'm slowly getting used to it. Go on."

Connor smiled against Hank's lips, shifting down a little so he could tease Hank's entrance with his fingers, watching with rapt attention as the muscles in Hank's torso tensed and relaxed, the arch of him as Connor slowly pushed one finger in, then another, teasing that little spot that made Hank's head fall back, revealing the line of his throat. He gently pulled one of Hank's legs up so it rested just under his arm, kissing down the center of Hank's neck, stopping in the center of his chest. Hank's hands were in his hair, slipping down his neck to his torso, fingers just catching on the glowing seam in his chest where his thirium pump rested. Connor pulled his fingers away just as he pressed his mouth to a round nipple, using it as a distraction so Hank didn't have to wait too long as Connor slicked himself down with one hand.

"God... You know you're beautiful, Connor," Hank murmured as Connor adjusted himself, both of Hank's knees hooked over Connor's elbows.

"You remind me from time to time," Connor hummed, slowly starting to press in, making Hank arch again, the hand on the back of Connor's neck tightening, pulling him close.

"I-I mean it. Not just the way you look," Hank said, voice faltering into a groan, his eyes falling closed for a second. "Ah... Fuck. More than anything I could ever ask for."

Connor shuddered, pressing his forehead into the crook of Hank's shoulder once he was fully seated inside. The waves of pleasure didn't threaten to drown him like they used to, but the more Hank kept talking, the more they swelled with something else, threatening to break.

"A beautiful person," Hank murmured, his arms looped in a hug around Connor's shoulders, now, one hand still tangled in Connor's hair. "And I love that about you. I love you," he continued, pressing a kiss into Connor's ear.

It was something like gratitude that flooded Connor, forcing him to stop his breathing for a moment, eyes pressed closed against the rush of emotion, bouncing and sparking along his wires, all encompassing and bright.

"Jesus, Connor, are you alright?" Hank asked, Connor's processing taking just a couple of seconds too long to reboot before he breathed again.

"Yes," Connor said, pressing a kiss to Hank's beard, arms tightening under Hank's knees as he started to move. "I'm sorry. I was overwhelmed for a moment," he murmured, soaking in the desperate moans of his lover. "I feel the same way. I love you, Hank Anderson," he hummed, Hank's complaint lost somewhere between the thrust of Connor's hips. They moved together, Hank's fingers digging into Connor's back, as Connor pressed another kiss against Hank's neck, nipping and sucking on it until it was a red mark on suntouched skin.

"Connor- Connor," Hank breathed into his ear, the sound sending sparks down Connor's spine that built up at the base of his torso, begging for release.

"Hank," Connor hummed, the name a whisper of static on his lips before his kissed Hank again, fingers digging into Hank's thighs in a way that was certain to bruise, marks for Connor to kiss soft apologies against later.

"Yes- fuck-" Hank shuddered beneath him, hands pulling Connor flush against Hank's chest, their mouths in a biting kiss. The band holding Hank's hair back had been lost somewhere along the way, spilling silver strands against the covers, shorter pieces sticking to Hank's forehead and cheeks, framing dark eyes of the brightest blue that met Connor's own.

Hank broke first, hands tight in Connor's hair as he cried out, the sound reverberating between them. Connor pressed kisses to his jaw and the long line of his neck as he rode it out, just barely lasting a couple of more thrusts before he was overflowing, calling out Hank's name in a fracturing voice.

Connor came back down with his forehead pressed to Hank's rising and falling chest, eyes slowly opening to look at Hank, who ruffled his hair affectionately. Connor pulled away, letting down Hank's legs so he could stretch out comfortably beside him, sharing lazy kisses without getting out of bed. It was going to be lunch time soon but for once Connor decided it could be a little delayed.

"So what _were_ you doing while I was busy with the yard?" Hank asked around a yawn.

"You should take a nap," Connor supplied, gently smoothing damp strands of hair from Hank's forehead.

"Are you really avoiding the subject?" Hank asked with a soft laugh, his hand tracing idle circles on Connor's shoulder. "You can tell me, even if it ruins the mood."

"Watching the news."

"Ah. And what did they say?"

"Jericho is doing well," Connor said, tucking his nose into the crook of Hank's shoulder. "Amanda is commanding people's attention. I think if it was just androids, Jericho would be having more trouble changing people's minds and the law."

"And you're watching the news to find this out? You haven't been there?"

Connor shook his head.

"Well, why not? You should go. You broke into CyberLife for them, right?"

"I barely did anything. Just wrongly assumed that Nines had lured us into a trap because I'm still a little scared of him," Connor said, a shade of bitterness creeping through into his words. "I'm not really much more than a bystander."

Hank chuckled. "He has that effect on people. Remember that you hid Jericho from the FBI. You rescued Simon. That has to count for something," he hummed, draping an arm comfortably over Connor's chest. "But I'm just an old man who doesn't know better. You should go find out for yourself."

Connor huffed at him but Hank stole a kiss before he could chide him on his self deprecation. He was right, anyway. Connor had let his own judgement be clouded again, shutting himself off from the rest of the androids. It was time to face the music, as Hank would say.

...

The CyberLife tower looked remarkably different from when Connor saw it last. The glass doors were thrown open in defiance of the warmth, a fan bathing him in cool air as he stepped through. The gate had let him pass without any questions. No longer was it dark and abandoned and there were no more armed guards out on patrol. Androids milled about freely, some walking arm in arm, others clearly on their way to accomplish a task. He could hear the shrieks of children somewhere up above as they echoed through the open space. It was otherwise quiet, but only to the human ear. All around him there was a tangible buzz of conversation, thoughts being carried through the air from one android to another.

Here it was, a place that androids could call their own. Connor wasn't here to become a part of it. His home was with Hank, his work was at the precinct. But the least he could do was see it. Appreciate it, what it had become, despite all the odds.

_You're Connor_ , an AP700 said, walking hand in hand with a YK400. _I'm Rose. This is Jeremiah. It's lovely to finally meet you._

_Rose. Jeremiah,_ Connor repeated, a little aghast at being recognized even as Jeremiah pulled on Rose's hand, impatient to go outside.

_Hello, Connor_ , a VS400 greeted him as he passed. His nametag read Andrew.

_Andrew._

_Good morning, Connor. My name is Chloe._ Chloe smiled up at him, blond hair tied low to the side of her head, hands folded neatly in front of her.

_Chloe. I thought I'd come... I thought I'd come see how Markus is doing. Simon. North. Josh. Amanda. Everyone._

_Of course. You'll want to take the elevator up to the top floor. They've been waiting for you._

Connor nodded to her politely before stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the 43rd floor. The doors hissed closed and Chloe smiled, bright and happy, raising a hand in a wave that Connor hesitantly returned until he lost sight of her, the elevator slowly rising. Floor after floor passed, the windows of some offices plastered in drawings, bright and colorful in contrast to the stately grey of the walls. In some places, the paint was applied straight to the glass. WE ARE ALIVE, said the wavering font, no longer exactly the CyberLife serif, curls pulling at the corners of the letters, flowers bursting forth from the top of them.

Eventually, the elevator came to a stop, the doors sliding open to let Connor out into an empty hallway. Most of the doors were closed except for one at the very end. It stood open, sunlight pouring through the clear glass windows of the room beyond, making the fluorescent lighting in the hall look dim. Again, Connor could hear that buzz of conversation, softer now, between less people, but still present.

Connor walked forward, then hesitated on the threshold. Perhaps they were busy... He didn't necessarily need to see anyone right now. He could always come back later.

_Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in. It's been a while, Connor,_ Amanda said, the smile audible in her voice.

_About time._ That was definitely North.

_There's nothing wrong with taking a break,_ Josh chided her. _We couldn't ask anything more than you've already done for us, Connor._

_Connor! You're back._ Simon.

_Come in. We've been discussing a new plan, if you're up for it._ Markus.

Connor straightened, pressing his thumb against his ring and giving it a spin before finally stepping into the room.

It's my fault. I'm sorry for taking so long. I should have kept in better contact.

He discarded all these thoughts.

_Hello,_ he said, squinting in the sunlight at the group of people gathered around the table. _I'm glad to be back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you thought in the comments. :)


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